


It Takes a Lot to Scare Away A Cat

by Dreamflight4630 (Dem0nLight)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AKA Riddler and Hatter and Scarecrow, Batman is largely unaware, Cats, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Harley is an aggressive shipper, Jonathan has low self-esteem, Multi, No Smut, Other, Scaredy Cat ship, Selina might have a hoarding problem, So is Edward, The Dork Squad, because they're supervillains, fear toxin, inspired by livestream chat, paranoid T rating, too many cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-10-02 23:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10230815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dem0nLight/pseuds/Dreamflight4630
Summary: A relationship between the Scarecrow and Catwoman was almost a laughable idea: both were too wrapped up in their own schemes (not to mention Selina had a thing with Batman going on!) And yet, the two just seemed to be getting closer and closer to one another—all without meaning to.(Inspired by the tumblr blog askarkham)





	1. Cat got your tongue, Dr. Crane?

**Author's Note:**

> It's a funny story how I was inspired to write this out: I was watching a livestream from one of my favorite artists (known as Alomoria on DeviantArt) and the chat got a little out of hand. It was suggested (as a big "what if?" scenario) that perhaps Jonathan Crane and Selina Kyle could get together and have a relationship. It quickly got out of hand as the chat came up with scenarios that would happen between the two that quickly got y gears turning. After taking almost 30 screenshots of the chat ideas, I decided I wanted to write them out and we could all squee at the cuteness together.
> 
> The format for how I'm going to write this out is still very up in the air. The original plan was for all of the ideas to be their own one-shot chapter without any real chronology but as I was writing this first chapter I realized I wanted to write this as how their relationship would develop. Either way had its benefits and drawbacks so please let me know what you think would be best! (Personally, I'm more inclined to write the latter)
> 
> Either way, let's get this show on the road! Enjoy!

Gotham was a menacing place after dark: mobsters and supervillains alike prowled the streets. The only way to stay safe was to be one of these elites—or to be their sole predator, the Batman. All the same, Jonathan Crane never felt unsafe while outside. He as armed to the teeth despite his unassuming appearance, all lanky limbs and little else to compensate for it. Granted, the scythe he carried over his shoulder down the empty alleyways gave him a reaper-like aura but he was hardly threatening otherwise.

Pity the fool who thought they could overpower him: they would be dead of fright before sunlight was even a suggestion on the horizon.

A shadow flitted across the moon, causing the wild-haired former professor to pause in his stride, eyes narrowing as he followed the figure's movements across the rooftops, glasses gleaming when they caught the light. No cape, so it wasn't a crusader come to take him from the city streets once again. Probably just another criminal, out and about in the dark committing nefarious deeds.

And speaking of, Jonathan had some work to do.

The Narrows were the Scarecrow's favorite place to obtain his newest test subjects: more active at night, filled to bursting with the scum of humanity who wouldn't be missed if they never went back to work and nearly everyone who lived within had accepted the very real possibility that they could be killed at any time for any arbitrary reason. Truly, the perfect hunting grounds.

Hazel eyes scanned the wide road and tiny, empty park from the shadow of the nearest apartment complex, flitting over the locals and evaluating them.

_Male, mid thirties, drunkard. Likely living with depressive tendencies or turbulent marriage. Intoxication could impact effectiveness of the Toxin. Track this one for later._

_Female, early twenties, college student, involved with a drug racket. Likely blackmailed. Intriguing but also risky as she attends university and likely has friends who will notice and care, drawing attention to my activities._

_Male, sixties, dying of cancer. No point in ending his life prematurely—he couldn't stand the stress fear and would be useless in obtaining data._

Someone to his left wolf whistled, drawing Jonathan out of his observational state. The offender was a man in his late twenties or early thirties standing outside one of the countless sinful venues on the street (a bar with brilliant neon lettering which likely had no difference from the strip club a few doors down aside from title). The target of the man's advances was a lovely woman—one that Jonathan recognized. They had passed too many times in Arkham's halls for him _not_ to recognize those piercing eyes and shapely features.

Selina Kyle ignored the men catcalling her as she glided across the filthy streets, moving like a queen without a care in the world. Her silent watcher knew better: her eyes constantly roved, seeking something with an intent that was out of place here—there was nothing worth stealing. When she made it to the sad excuse for a playscape with two leafless trees making up the "park", she stopped at the base of the towering plants and glanced up, a pouting frown forming on her lips. The master of fear followed her gaze and noticed for the first time a small cat nestled in the wiry branches, a little ribbon around its neck.

The lithe woman was attempting to coax the feline down from its perch, speaking to it though not loud enough for Jonathan to hear on the opposite side of the street. The animal did not seem at all inclined to listen as it yawned in clear disdain for its owner and looked elsewhere. It was almost funny, actually; here he was, witnessing one of the most feared and hunted criminals in the city bargaining with a stubborn cat. No longer interested in observing the masses, the lanky man slid his scythe off his shoulder and tucked it out of sight, nimbly crossing through the traffic to loom behind Catwoman's comparatively tiny frame.

"Good evening, ms Kyle," he said simply, noting that while she hadn't flinched at his words she did shift her stance to lean herself away from his body.

"You as well, Dr. Crane," she purred in response. "Come to do a bit of fishing?"

"Your situation caught my attention more than any of these simpletons—it is unlike you to lose your handle over your pets like this."

"Milo is my newest little friend. He might appreciate the roof over his head when it's raining, but he has yet to adopt my apartment as home or accept me as his new mama."

Her phrasing amused Jonathan a bit. Try as she might to hide it, he heard the frustration in her voice at how the cat refused to pay any attention to her. How adorable.

"Animals are such troublesome things at times," remarked coolly. "Why haven't you gone to fetch it yourself yet? You are perfectly capable."

"Oh, pardon me sir, but a lady does not climb trees when dressed in a skirt and heels," Selina resorted, resting her hand on her hip and shifting her weight onto that leg into a seductive and alluring pose. The wiry psychologist looked her over apathetically then glanced back at the orange tabby in the tree. Without another word, he stripped off his coat—after pulling something from the pocket—and strode to the trunk. Like an overlarge spider, Jonathan ascended until he was within reach of the small feline, which twisted to watch him warily.

Stretching out his hand, Jonathan showed the cat the strip of meat he kept on hand for the raven that had begun living among his crows. The animal's ears pricked up in interest but it didn't approach right away. After a patient minute of waiting, the master of fear was rewarded by the cat creeping closer to sniff at the offering of food. When it tentatively took it, his outstretched hand was in the perfect position to take hold of the cat's scruff, lifting it off the branch where it perched and bringing it to his chest to cradle it as he descended back down the tree. The second his feet touched the ground, he held the young feline out to its owner.

"Hello again, Milo," Selina greeted it as she took it and held it at arms length. "It was very naughty of you to run away from your mama, my beautiful boy. You're lucky that the big bad scarecrow was willing to get you down again or you'd be stuck all night."

"A gentleman never leaves a lady with a problem on her hands," was the flat reply. "No matter the state of affairs between them."

"Aww, are you still sore about the clawing I gave you in Arkham?" the dark-haried woman cooed.

"Considering that I knew nothing of your relationship with Wayne's son, I think a mere verbal warning would have been sufficient. The spot is still tender to the touch."

"Well, you did help my little baby," she mused. "Perhaps I ought to reward you for such gentlemanly behavior. That is the proper action required of any lady of class, is it not?"

Not waiting for an answer, Catwoman stood on her toes and left a quick peck on Jonathan's cheek, her scarlet lipstick leaving a faint smudge. Then, just as swiftly, she whisked away, jogging down the street and ignoring the drunk men who called out asking for similar treatment. The lanky brunette stayed frozen where he stood, watching her go with slight confusion.

Selina Kyle was a flighty woman, he knew, and flirted with almost anyone who fell into her wide range of interest. He, however, had never been included in that circle, instead always being prodded at or ignored. Her deliberate teasing was a tad bit out of character for their relationship, which made the former professor wonder if she was attempting to play mind games with him—and if she was, then what ends was she playing at.

Almost unconsciously, Jonathan raised a hand to trace his thin fingers over the spot she had marked. No one had ever kissed him before—not even when Sherry Squires had pretended to like him in High School. He couldn't deny he liked the gesture, even if it were an empty one; it filled some sort of hollow spot in his chest with a small, fluttering sensation of happiness, of contentment. The glow faded, however, as he turned his thoughts back to his work. If he was going to get any sleep tonight, he needed to find a victim within the hour.

Selina Kyle was not his concern.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina's in a bit of a pickle. Thankfully, a certain gentleman happens to be nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So y'all are aware, this fic is going to be going chronologically through Jon and Selina's relationship, but it'll be set up like one-shots so not all of these consecutively follow each other up. Good? Great. There is an outline for 16 chapters at the moment, but it's definitely gonna be longer than that!

One would think that after enough times of getting hit or being knocked down that you would get used to the pain. Nope, still hurt just as much as the first time though it was easier to think around it and keep functioning through it.

Selina grit her teeth as she limped down the street, cursing her luck for the botched jewelry store robbery. How was she supposed to know it was an occupied mafia safehouse? It had looked like a low-profile shop when she had browsed through their selection earlier that day. All the same, both her pride and her leg now ached with every step she took, not to mention all the little cuts she'd gotten after having to break through a window to escape.

The dark haired woman paused to rest at the edge of a rooftop, leaning against the ventilation on top and massaging her sore calf where one of the bodyguards had grabbed hold of her. It was then she heard a sound that, while not out of place in the Narrows, caught her attention: frantic begging and crying coming from further down the alleyway.

Squinting in the darkness below, she could barely make out two figures. The sobbing was on the ground in the shadow of a tall, stick thin figure that was nigh impossible to _not_ recognize, especially with that ridiculous hat he had on. The Scarecrow's victim was swiftly silenced by a fierce blow to the head and the lanky villain bent over to pick up what was likely his newest test subject. In a moment of bold daring, Selina decided to call out to him.

"Funny running into you again so soon."

Catwoman felt like giggling at the way he jumped, completely dropping the unconscious person to the ground without ceremony. When his masked face finally twisted up to see her, she got the strong feeling that he was scowling underneath the burlap.

"You are lucky you are not closer to the ground or I would have you screaming now," he bit out, retrieving his victim. "And clearly you have something you want from me or you would have simply let me be on my way."

"Can't one criminal just say a nice 'hello' to each other every once in a while?" Selina purred with a shrug. When she was answered with unamused silence, she rolled her eyes. "Fine; I got a little banged up and my apartment is _really_ far from here. Is your hideout any closer?"

"How exactly did you injure yourself?" Jonathan asked flatly. "You could just be wanting to know where I operate to find me for favors later."

"Long story. I haven't had the time to really look at them yet—but they hurt plenty. You wouldn't leave a pretty lady alone and hurting in the cold, would you scary boy?"

The pout was a tad more than was needed, but the attractive thief could almost hear the Scarecrow's mind mulling over her logic and she wanted to push a little bit because why not? After a few minutes of deliberation, Jonathan came to his decision.

"Climb down to the alleyway. I'll be back in a minute."

_And another win for the damsel in distress_ Selina thought with a wry grin as her fellow villain disappeared with his quarry. Getting off the roof proved to be a bit problematic with her sore leg but she reached the pavement about the time an old truck rumbled into view at the alley's mouth. She could make out the shape of the driver's face and realized that he must have removed his mask and put his glasses on to drive a little better.

"I must say, I didn't think you'd be driving us," the dark-haired woman chuckled as she pulled open the passenger door and clambered inside. The man from they alley had been laid in the backseat, she noticed, with the Scarecrow's hat over his face to make it seem as if he were sleeping instead of being kidnapped.

"You're just lucky I happened to bring it," was the cold reply. "Otherwise you would be walking."

"Aw, not gonna carry the sweet little kitten?" Selina teased, getting an irate hazel glare in return. "And I thought you were a _gentleman_."

"A word to the wise, ms Kyle," Jonathan stated flatly. "Do not antagonize the driver of the vehicle or you may find that you never arrive at your destination."

Catwoman was tempted to continue the banter but she was smart enough to know she would only get this one warning before being thrown from the speeding car. Instead she simply settled into her seat and watched the streetlamps whiz by her window. Every once in a while, her gaze would flicker back to the lanky man beside her and though he appeared entirely focused on the road she caught the tail end of his evaluating side glances as he observed the way she sat and the small tears in her catsuit. Unlike with most men, these little peeks at her were not to get a good look at her exquisitely fit body and nice curves, but instead felt clinical, evaluating her like a lab specimen—or as a potential threat.

The drive remained silent and tense the whole way until they pulled up to an ancient house in the poorest neighborhood of the entire Narrows. It looked to be in fairly decent shape—no broken windows and no obnoxious holes in the exterior—but the whole atmosphere gave one the sense of looking at a corpse, hollow and cold. Jonathan parked the truck in the shabby driveway and stepped out, retrieving the unconscious body from the backseat. Selina slid out as well, taking in the ramshackle building with appraising eyes while her host unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"I'm going to put him in the basement," the Scarecrow stated shortly as she followed him over the doorstep, referring to the man over his shoulder. "The bathroom is the first door on your left up the stair. You may use that to evaluate your injuries."

The lithe thief looked over the room as she took her time navigating to the stairs. Like the exterior, it wasn't anything special—in fact it was a little bare: a couch an a coffee table, the doorway leading into the dining area and kitchen opposite the way down to the basement. There was an old TV, but other than that and a lamp, there wasn't a single sign of technology or anything powered by electricity. When she'd heard Edward complaining about the lack of entertainment in Jonathan's lair, she thought he'd been exaggerating.

The bathroom was modest as well, only having the space for one person but it would do for now. Selina stripped out of her costume carefully, wincing every time she irritated a fresh scab or brushed against a bruise. The mirror wasn't full-length, so it took some contortion to check where all the shallow slices were and she even found a few deeper ones that still had glass in them. A quick search through the cabinet turned up bandages and rubbing alcohol which she gingerly applied to the worst of the cuts.

A sudden knock broke the dark-eyed woman's concentration, sending her slamming into the wall land adding another bruise.

"When you've finished, there are some clothes outside the door." The psychologist's voice was muffled through the wood, but the weariness in his voice was unmistakable. "If you need or wish to spend the night, there is a blanket on the couch."

Footsteps echoed down the stairs as Selina righted herself with a grumble of irritation. One last check with the mirror confirmed that she hadn't missed anything too big and she cracked open the door to retrieve the folded garments, shaking them open to appraise them. It was a fairly nice blouse and workout pants, both a bit too large on her frame. Where the master of fear had gotten women's clothes she decided she didn't want to know. Decent enough, she left the bathroom, catsuit over one arm, and descended the stairs, pausing when she spotted a small bundle on the coffee table.

It appeared to be a sewing kit, with different sized needles and types of thread in blacks and grays. Knowing who must have placed them there, Catwoman cast a sly glance towards the kitchen where a skinny shadow was visible.

"I didn't know you stitched things up in your spare time," she purred. "What, don't want the others in Arkham to know you can darn your own socks?"

Jonathan stepped into the open doorway with a fierce scowl on his face, a mug of tea in one hand/

"I never mentioned it because it should be _obvious_ , ms Kyle," he replied icily. "A single man living a solitary life without much access to new clothing and who consistently fights a man armed with blade-like weapons...of course I know how to sew, or else I would be constantly dressed in rags.

"Alright," Selina chuckled. "You got me there. You're rather testy then you're tired, aren't you?"

The tall criminal huffed in exasperation before disappearing back into the kitchen. The dark-haired thief smirked at the small victory as she plopped down onto the old couch cushions, the upholstery barely staying up under her weight. Taking a needle and the thread of her choice, she set about the long task of repairing her costume, knowing she's be at it for quite a few hours. Oh well, at least there was a roof over her head and a man to tease—a fairly comfortable arrangement all things considered.

And no matter how little it showed, Selina was glad that Jonathan had been willing to bring her along. It was nice to occasionally get help from her fellow villains instead of always competing—no matter how rigid he could be.


	3. Unintentional Goodwill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there some kind of fate going on? Jonathan can't seem to stop running into Selina, no matter what he's doing.

"Rrgh, I don't have time for this," the Scarecrow panted as he swung off the rooftop and down onto the fire escape. The Batman may have been incapacitated by the toxin for now, but he undoubtedly had some form of antidote on him that would start working sooner or later. In a rush, he checked the window attached to the escape and found it unlocked. Taking hold of a gas canister, he lifted the window and slipped inside, taking care to shut it behind him so it appeared undisturbed.

The interior of the apartment was dark and silent, a heavy smell in the air that Jonathan couldn't identify through the thick burlap of his mask. No one seemed to be home, but he still kept up his guard as he moved into the living room. Then he heard a cat hiss.

Freezing on the spot, the former professor peered intently at the spot where the sound had come, trying to make out the animal's shape without proper light. Then something thudded behind, from outside the window. The Scarecrow twisted back around, canister held high and at the ready when he made out a dark shape against he night backdrop. The pointed ears made every muscle in his body tense for a fight, but something was off: this figure was a lot smaller than Batman and Batgirl hadn't been anywhere near the Narrows...

The window rose and the shadowy shape slid inside sneakily. They took took the time to shut the opening behind them, though they actually locked it when they were done. With a sigh and a very luxurious stretch, Jonathan was finally able to identify the second intruder. Lowering the canister and stowing it, he cleared his throat to make his presence known.

The shadow startled, reaching for a lamp that he hadn't noticed in the darkness and switching it on. After a moment of everyone's eyes adjusting, the tension in the room drained away.

"What on earth are you doing in my apartment?" Selina hissed, pulling down her hood. "I thought you were Batman!"

"Incidentally, that is who I was attempting to get away from when I broke in," the lanky psychologist replied coolly, removing his hat and beginning to loosen the ties of his mask. "I didn't know you would be the one living here—though now that I can actually see it, it would be obvious."

All around the room, lying on every available surface, were cats—all sizes, shapes, colors and ages. Most of them stared at their home invader with a distinctly feline face of disapproval but some were more occupied with welcoming their owner back with meows and rubs against her legs.

"Are you trying to insinuate something?" the thief remarked in a falsely light tone, putting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight so her whole body all but screamed sass. It made the Scarecrow roll his eyes as he pulled off his mask and combed his fingers through his flattened hair to return it to its natural state.

"Just be certain, you have never been professionally diagnosed with hoarding disorder?" Jonathan stated in an equally dry voice with a quirked eyebrow.

"How dare you," Catwoman shot back, picking up a smoky persian and cuddling it to her chest. "I am offended you would even suggest such a thing—two dozen cats is not a hoarding problem."

"How many of these are from last year's kitten season?" The Master of Fear snarked. "I expect the population will just keep growing until you can no longer handle it."

"I'm not a beginner, Dr. Crane; I know how to handle animals. Now stop standing in the middle of the room—you look too much like your namesake when you do that."

Jonathan rolled his eyes a second time as he dropped his hat and mask on the table next to the lamp (where thankfully there weren't any cats at the moment) while hsi newly-decided hostess vanished into one of the doors off the hallway. Scanning for a spot, he managed to claim a space on the couch where he avoided squishing any of Selina's pets. Several of the animals scattered when he settled into the cushions but a small orange tabby actually approached and sat at his feet, amber eyes intent on the stranger in the apartment. After a brief staredown, it sprang up onto the sofa and trotted over to the armrest, watching the tall man with no small amoung of interest. Jonathan extended a hand for it to sniff and once it had gotten his scent, it began to rub against his long fingers, demanding a petting. He had finally acquiesced to give the cat a scratch behind the ears when Selina reemerged, wearing a fitted tan top and yoga pants.

"Seems like Milo remembers you," she remarked. "He's the one you got down from the tree a few weeks ago. I must say, I never took you for one to like cats."

"They are some of the few animals I can tolerate," the Scarecrow admitted, now stroking down Milo's arching spine. However, their shedding and tendency to knock over objects—intentionally or otherwise—means I don't can't keep them."

"Shame—he's really warmed up to you." There wasn't any actual disappointment in her tone despite what her words implied. "Soon he'll be prowling the streets to find you, the little troublemaker. Anyway, I don't have any clothes that would fit you so you're going to have to sleep in costume on the couch if you want to spend the night."

"I expected as much," was the simple answer. "I didn't intend to stay here for any longer than it took for the Batman to pass me by. However, now that the offer has been extended, I might as well take advantage of it and sleep before heading out. I won't be staying all night, but—"

He was cut off by a blanket being tossed over his head.

"As long as you don't make a mess on the way out. And don't make too much of a ruckus either; you'll excite the cats and they'll demand a petting at an ungodly hour in the morning. Bathroom's down the hall if you need it. And just so we are clear, you definitely owe me for this."

"Just so long as it's not something petty," Jonathan grumbled, yanking the fabric away from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! So sorry this is so short, but it's more set-up for the next chapter than anything else. Milo's return is always a plus though, right? (He's probably the only cat I'm gonna name since Selina has too many) Hopefully I'll keep churning out chapters this fast, but no promises!


	4. Reluctant Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina cashes in on that favor and Jonathan is not happy about it.

"Ms Kyle...no. Just no."

"You owe me, Crane ," Selina insisted, folding her arms. "I've already come all the way here and I am not going off somewhere else."

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff of frustration. He did not need this right now—not when he had just started making progress on his newest test subject! Irritated did not even _begin_ to describe what he was feeling right now.

But, here she was. At his lair. In broad daylight. With a rented moving truck that was filled with likely every earthly possession she had—which meant there were more than twenty (very likely grouchy) cats contained in that space.

"I don't care that the bat managed to track you to where you live," he ground out. "You are not staying here—not while I am in the middle of my research."

"It's not like I'll be here forever! Most of my things won't even be unpacked!" Catching herself, the dark-haired woman took a deep breath to soothe her rising temper and folded her arms. "Look, all I need is a room—I brought everything else necessary to live off of, even a mattress. You can even put me in the attic if you like. And I'll do my best to keep the cats shut into my space so they don't wreck anything. But please, you're the only one outside of Arkham right now that I can stay with."

"What about Edward? He's usually more than willing when it comes to you."

"I'd rather not owe him a favor...what do I need to say to convince you? I've got money if you need it. I can steal supplies for you. All I need is a roof over my head and a spot to sleep. Please?"

Jonathan studied Selina's expression and body language, trying to get a read on her. Unlike her normal mannerisms, she was actually in a very open stance, not difficult to read at all. Her constant shifting, the way her fingers traced over every available surface, her clear determination to retain eye contact—all were signs of a person worried about the outcome of their conversation. She must truly be desperate if she wasn't going to try and flirt her way into convincing him like she would anyone else—and he understood her reluctance to be indebted to the Riddler; those could be difficult to pay off with his love of technicalities and weighing of how much each individual favor actually counted in his debt calculations.

"I have one spare room," he sighed after a long, thoughtful pause. "The attic is where my crows roost and I don't trust your cats within ten yards of them. Same goes for the basement and my bedroom. And anything they damage or dirty will be your responsibility or I will leave you and all of those pesky felines in the streets. Also, under no circumstances must you come into my laboratory without explicit permission, no matter what you may hear. Same goes for waking me up."

"No attic, no bedroom, no basement," Selina reiterated. "Just stay out of your space. Got it. Now would you mind helping me get all this stuff in? I don't want to be out here all day and I do have to return the truck."

The wiry psychologist rolled his eyes before joining the lithe thief at the back of the vehicle. When the space in the back was opened, the sound of plaintive meows echoed off the metal walls. The animals appeared to be contained in rows upon rows of carriers, several of the younger, smaller cats even managing to share room with one another. Everything else was contained in five very large boxes that were almost taller than their owner.

"I'll take the boxes," Jonathan volunteered, tone still flat and irate. "You handle your pets...this is going to be a nightmare."

And he was correct in that assertion: it took less than half an hour to move everything inside the old house, but the second Selina let the cats loose from their containers they fled to every hidden corner they could find, jumping atop cabinets, wriggling into cabinets and cupboards—a few had even taken up residence on and behind the fridge! Everywhere Jonathan tried to go, there was a cat hissing at him. A few of the bolder ones took swipes at his legs when he passed. It was obvious Selina was attempting to keep them calm and coax them into a more relaxed state, but the felines were even aggressive towards her. By late afternoon, both villains were covered in shallow scratches, Catwoman bearing the worst of it with a few bites on her hands.

"Moving is hard on my babies," she explained as they both disinfected the small wounds at the kitchen table. "It's not the first time we've done this though—they'll be better behaved in a day or two."

"For your sake, you should hope so," was the Scarecrow's icy reply. "How long were you planning on staying? I can't promise how long my generosity will last."

"Depends on how fast my fake IDs can be verified and I can find an apartment. Should be a week at the shortest, but it's likely gonna be a bit longer than that. Speaking of, I need to call Edward and get him on that."

"I thought you didn't want to get him involved."

"This was an old deal we had after I stole him some really good tech—he promised to wipe my old identities from the system and help me build a few new ones he would implement when I need. Might take a little convincing to get it top priority, but it shouldn't be overly difficult."

The former professor made a small scoffing sound as Selina pulled out her phone and began to look through her contacts. Her dark eyes flickered to him in a silent question regarding his obvious disapproval and he shook his head.

"Manipulation of one's emotions in your favor may be effective, but the potential repercussions are often unknown and usually very damaging. The chances of damaging the cordial relationship you currently have with Edward are extremely high," Jonathan explained. "He may be socially inept a majority of the time, but he knows you toy with him. One of these days, you'll push a little too far and he'll never forgive you."

"Don't you center your whole life around manipulating other's emotions for your own personal benefits?" she shot back. "A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"The difference being that you string along those who you manipulate for a constant additional resource—almost none of my subjects survive my extensive testing and those that do never see me again and I ensure never to contact them, though I may keep information on their whereabouts for anything interesting."

"Some people actually survive your 'therapy' experiments? Oh hold on, he's answering."

The svelte woman rose from her chair, putting the phone to her ear as her demeanor immediately shifted from confrontational to her more natural, alluring state. The master of fear rolled his eyes in weary annoyance. He had not gotten enough sleep last night to deal with this extremely frustrating human being.

A small noise caught his attention and he noticed a small orange tabby had leapt onto the seat Selina had vacated, probably to take advantage of the warmth that was left on the chair. It seemed far more at ease than any of the other cats, licking its paw almost lazily and rubbing it against its ear. When the feline had finished its washing, it twisted to him, amber eyes appraising. With another short jump, the tabby got onto the table and strode confidently over.

Jonathan finally recognized the specific cat when it pawed at his hand: this had to be Milo, the one he'd gotten from the tree. The tomcat seemed to have adopted him as a secondary human it seemed as he continually insisted that he be given affection. The lanky brunette obliged with a faint sigh, a small smile threatening to break free when Milo began to purr without shame. 

Now if only all the other animals in this house—including the bipedal one—were this agreeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me now how this turned out. It was kinda scribbled down over the past couple of days and I don't really know how well it flows from an outside perspective. I always second-guess myself right before posting, dear goodness! :')


	5. Misconceptions and Flipped Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two of Batman's Rogues living in under the same roof is bound to cause conflict of some kind—it's a miracle that is hasn't happened with the Scarecrow and his guest yet. That luck can only hold out for so long.

Selina stretched luxuriously, ignoring the protesting mewls from the cats that were napping on the mattress beside her of piled atop her body. Careful to not roll onto any of her beloved pets, she got to her feet and picked up the folded clothes she'd set aside for the morning, brushing fur off the fabric before getting dressed. After navigating around the dozen of so cats curled up and still sleeping, the dark-haired thief made it out the door and descended the stairs to the kitchen.

The old house was normally absolutely silent in the mornings, but it seemed that normally peaceful aura was not to be today: muffled screaming could be heard from down the basement steps. It seemed the Scarecrow's research had gone on through the night then—the sounds had started shortly before midnight. Selina shuddered at the thought of what must be happening down there and did her best to ignore it as background noise as she made herself breakfast and retrieved the bag and bowl for her cats. 

It had been five days since Catwoman had come to stay and in all that time she had seen very little of her host: Jonathan was always in the basement, in the attic or otherwise occupied throughout the house. They'd probably spoken less than fifty words to one another and most of that had been over the breakfast table. (More often, however, the lanky psychologist simply prepared excess food  when making his own meals and left them out for Selina to have if she pleased; if she didn't take it, it simply disappeared somewhere)

Munching on her toast, she returned upstairs and ensured when she reentered the guest room that none of her feline companions got out. The few that were still sleeping woke right up when they heard the rattle of cat food hitting the bottom of their huge, shared food dish. Rushing forward to get a bite, the two dozen cats swarmed the bowl and nearly tripped Selina when she tried to back up and watch them eat. Idly, the svelte woman began to count how many of her pets were getting at the food before she paused to frown. Was her mind playing tricks on her or were there fewer cats than there should be?

She started again: three white, two grays, four blacks, two tortoiseshell, one calico, four brown tabby, one gray tabby, one orange tabby, two siamese, three persians...that was only 23. She'd brought 24 cats at the beginning of the week—and the missing one was an orange tabby. Had Milo really gotten out again? That was one stubborn little cat—he'd gotten out of the room almost nine times already!

Careful to ensure none of the others left, Selina began to search the house for the missing cat, calling out for him occasionally. After fifteen minutes, she began to worry. All the usual spots were free of the missing tabby; the only places she still had yet to check were the three forbidden rooms.

A sudden idea struck her. What if...what if Milo had ventured down into the basement at some point last night? The Scarecrow had to have left at some point and if her pet had gotten out in the night when she came up to bed, it was entirely possible he could be down there...what if Jonathan had taken that as an invitation to use his twisted medicines on her precious baby?

That thought alone was too much: almost desperately Selina sprinted down the basement steps. She hesitated at the door for a moment, remembering the warning given to her but that was swept from her mind as the shrieks from within reached a new pitch. 

Her fist pounded on the door.

"Crane! Get out here!  _Now_!"

For a horrifying moment nothing appeared to change. Then the door was wrenched open and Selina found herself face-to-face with a familiar burlap mask.

" _What?_ " the Scarecrow spat, his voice icy. 

"Where's Milo?" Selina bit out, teeth bared.

"Of all the asinine—" he cut himself off as the screams from the basement suddenly ceased into harsh gasping. Whirling around, the psychologist disappeared back within his lab and the dark-haired woman watched him run to the table where his subject was no doubt bound. She was able to catch snippets of his mutterings to himself as he frantically examined the out-of-sight human being.

"...new stimuli...cardiac weakness...over-exposure to..."

The longer he assessed the situation, his shoulders tensed and his movements more aggressive until he was almost literally growling. A flicker of fear shot through the lithe thief at the doorway, but she dared one more press.

"Crane, if you've done anything to my cat—"

The way Jonathan's masked face snapped towards her startled Selina into silence. Even without a way to gauge his expression properly, she could tell he was furious. His hands curled into fists before being forced into a more relaxed stance and his voice was low and harsh when he spoke.

"Get out."

Catwoman hesitated for a moment and the small amount of control the Scarecrow seemed to hold on his anger shattered.

"Get! Out! If ah eva' get mah hands on ya, you'll wish ya were never born!

The volume—as well as the sudden addition of the unfamiliar accent—was enough to jolt the woman into action and she promptly fled up the stairs and across the living room before ascending the second set at breakneck speeds. The second she slammed the guest room door shut, she plopped down onto the carpet, shaking like a leaf. Several of her cats rushed over, meowing plaintively as they sensed their guardian's distress. Reaching out to stroke their fur calmed her enough to think and when there were no less than five animals snuggling in her lap and arms she was able to organize her thoughts better.

Never in her life had she seen Jonathan get that angry—he hadn't even been able to enunciate his words properly! And if he had been reluctant to house her and the cats before, he had every reason to get rid of them now. On top of that, she may have just added herself to the hitlist of Toxin victims.

Well today had just gone from fine to the worst possible scenario, hadn't it?

* * *

By evening, Selina had to risk coming out of the guest room or be forced to spend the whole night hungry. Unable to deny her increasingly loud stomach, she finally traveled back downstairs, every step cautious and alert as she kept all her senses trained to spot Jonathan. He wasn't in the living room but the second the kitchen table came into view, she froze on the spot: there he was, sipping at a mug of tea as he scribbled something into a notebook. The woman twisted back around to head back upstairs, but her host's voice paralyzed her once more.

 "You'll be pleased to know, ms Kyle, that I have decided against my initial reaction to have you replace the test subject I lost earlier today. You may come eat dinner without any need to fear me."

Selina had to fight down every urge to just hiss at him and retreat to the safety of her room. She remained exactly where she stood for a full minute, waiting for some sign that the former professor had some intent to come grab hold of her and then do whatever experiments he pleased but all she got was an impatient sigh.

"I have something I would like to show you upstairs," he stated calmly as he rose from the table. "It will put your mind more at ease, I think, after the events of this morning."

"Is it a chloroform rag?" Catwoman spat when Jonathan crossed the threshold of the kitchen and into the same room as her.

"It is the answer to the question you so rudely interrupted my research for," was the curt reply. "Not that I fault you for your caution; it is a wise reaction to encountering me when I am...less stable."

Still suspicious, Selina let the wiry man pass her by and climb the stairs, making sure to follow at a safe distance. To her surprise, he walked straight to his bedroom door and waited for her to catch up before he opened it and stood to the side to allow her to see in.

To her immense surprise, on the end of the bed there was a pile of old sweaters and curled up in the midst of those sweaters was a small orange tabby, looking content as a king.

"He has been there since yesterday afternoon," Jonathan explained, closing the door once again. "Wouldn't let me write my testing plans for the night in peace. When I let him in, he took a liking to the laundry and has been using it as a bed on and off all night and day."

"You weren't doing any..." Selina swallowed. "Any tests? On him?"

"Of course not." The hallway was narrow enough so the distance between the two villains was less than a foot; the lithe thief could very clearly see the psychologist's hazel eyes and the exhausted shadows underneath them. "You are my guest and he is your pet; that would be rude and unnecessarily cruel. You haven't broken any rules, after all: you never entered the basement and I made a personal exception for the tomcat in this case. I already told you that cats are an animal I am more partial too as well."

"So the threats—"

"Empty and made in a fit of frustration. Your pounding on the door this morning was enough of an added stimulus to push the subject into cardiac arrest and I was unable to resuscitate him. I had already gained most of what I wanted to know from him, however, so I will forgive you this time for interrupting the proceedings."

"How generous..." Despite the dry tone, there was no real sarcasm in Selina's voice—only acute relief. Shaking herself briefly, she began to make her way down the hall with an air of nonchalance. "Well now that the mess has been settled, I am going to get food. I'll be back for Milo in a bit." 

She didn't need to look back to know her forced carelessness was drawing an eyeroll and disapproving shake of the head from the lanky brunette as he saw right through her act. But one had to keep up appearances after all; it was essential in their line of work. 

* * *

 

It was probably past 2 AM when Jonathan's note-taking was rudely interrupted by a persistent meowing at the basement door. The wiry man let out a heavy sigh as he set his pen down and left his desk to open it a crack and let the orange tabby into his lab.

"You are the most troublesome of the guests here," he commented as he scooped the young animal up into his arms. "Why you've taken to me in such a way I doubt I'll ever fully understand."

Milo contented himself in this other human's arms, purring lightly. Jonathan tried to set the tomcat down on the desk to the side of his notebook as he went back to work but that soon proved fruitless as the tabby pawed at his unoccupied hand for a petting. When he was not indulged, he began to step over the notebook and laid down over the pages, looking almost smug when he was glared at.

"You are impossible," the former professor grumbled, pulling the notes out from under Milo's belly. He then picked up the small feline and settled it across his shoulders. "If you're so determined to keep me company, you can do it from there—out of the way."

Jonathan then manged to get back to work, but it was a precarious method of multitasking: if he didn't rub the cat's head with his free hand about once per minute the tabby would begin rubbing his head against his chosen human's cheek, which was highly distracting. It took twenty minutes to finish recording the events of the day's experiments as well as hypotheses and plans for improvement before he finally closed the notebook and removed his glasses, leaning back into his chair.

"You're lucky to not be on the streets after this morning's debacle," he remarked, scratching Milo's ears. The cat purred without a care. "I'm serious—your owner cost me my sole test subject today. They are not very easy to come by when I haven't got any help."

The orange tabby yawned before standing and rubbing his head into Jonathan's scalp.

"In all seriousness, it would have happened sooner or later—cardiac arrest is one of the most common ways that my subjects die. But I wasn't done with that one quite yet...all the same, I suppose I had exhausted him for anything unique and it was more for my own curiosity than anything practical. I was wondering how he would respond to the actual presence of his fears. True trypophobia is something I haven't seen in quite some time and I wanted to see if something so simple as a common household objects would trigger a panic attack even without the Toxin in his system."

The little cat began to get more ambitious, weaving its way across his shoulders as he lectured. It wasn't until Milo decided to try making a nest on Jonathan's head that he stopped rambling. 

"It's late," he remarked, more to himself than the animal nestled in his hair. "It's about time I left the lab, I suppose...did I eat already or didn't I?"

Still musing to himself, the master of fear strode up the basement steps, the perfectly content tabby purring away on its perch.

* * *

When Jonathan came down the next morning, he was surprised to see Selina up and about already, busily fixing a large pan of fried eggs. When she spotted him coming into the kitchen, she greeted him.

"Morning Crane."

"Mornin' ms Kyle," he replied automatically. "Didn' expect ta see ya up so early."

"I enjoy a good lie-in as much as the next girl, but I didn't feel like sleeping in." There was a brief silence as she flipped the eggs over and the still-tired brunette seated himself at the table, suppressing a yawn.

"I didn't know you had an accent," Selina finally commented casually. Jonathan started a little, casting his mind about for a proper response. Had he really let it slip? He must be more exhausted than he thought.

"Ah, uh, I usually...keep it under wraps," he admitted slowly, doing his best to form his words properly now that he was aware of the blunder. "Only slips out when I'm angry...or tired. I suppose you may have heard it yesterday as well..."

"I don't mind if you talk like that," the dark-haired thief assured her host as she plated the eggs. "You should be comfortable in your own home, after all."

"I know what I sound like when I talk that way—like some uneducated bumpkin attempting to sound halfway intelligent," the slim psychologist grumbled. "You try saying any proper phobia that way and not come across as ridiculous."

For half a second, he thought perhaps his guest had caught the lie the way she studied him, but then she shrugged and brought the warm plates to the table.

"Honestly, I think I might like the way you sound—it's more emotive than your usual form of speech anyway," she remarked. "But if you don't want to use it, fine by me; it's your life."

The pair of criminals both dug into their food without further delay. The eggs were good—a bit on the peppery side, but it was a satisfactory breakfast nonetheless. Jonathan finished first, a little surprised at how hungry he was, and rose to rinse his plate.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Milo got to last night, do you?" Selina asked. "He wasn't with the other cats when I fed them."

"Armchair in the living room. Can't keep him off my sweaters, apparently. I am never going to get all the hair off them."

"One of the risks of living with them." Catwoman's voice then took a mischievous turn. "You know, he's taken quite a liking to you. Maybe I'll leave him here with you when the rest of us go."

"No."

"Aw, you're no fun," Selina pouted without any real disappointment, joining Jonathan at the sink to wash her own dish. He rolled his eyes and she nudged him with her hip teasingly. He returned the move with a light elbow to the ribs, a faint smile crossing his weary face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter this time, but I really wanted to combine two seperate one-shot ideas in here so the action would move along faster. (Also, word to the wise, you probably don't want to google trypophobia and look at the images. They're just weird and gross.)
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	6. Defining Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it happens, Jon ends up back in Arkham. However, the other Rogues become very interested in what's been happening over the past few weeks woth Selina--much to his frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If anyone is still reading this, just wanted to say I'm not dead. Stuff happened irl that I won't say here as I doubt it really matters to anyone. So here's the uber late update.  
> (Also I just couldn't get this to feel right to me while I was revising, so here's the results of my idea that were the least off-target from what I was going for.)

Denial was an interesting phenomenon. Despite the wealth of psychological knowledge available to him, Jonathan continually found himself hoping that somehow it had all been a very vivid dream. Yet the same four walls of his cell met his gaze every time his hazel eyes focused in on the world around him.

Arkham Asylum was not the most pleasant place to wake up. Perhaps it was the memories of this particular cell that caused the daily denial, but really there were far too many factors to really determine anything from his situation.

He was getting side tracked. Unusual. Must be the new medication the doctors _thought_  the patients didn't know about lacing the food. Really, generally dosing a building full of highly unique individuals with a new drug was bound to cause trouble. Did these people have even the slightest understanding of pharmacology? It was downright shameful.

Groans sounded from some of the other cells as the guards did their wakeup routine, shouting, growling and being generally disturbing. It was sad how familiar it all was--a week into his current stay and already Jonathan felt like he'd never left the facility.

It had been similarly tragic how he'd wound up back in Arkham in the first place: a routine robbery for chemicals had ended with an entanglement with the Batman and as usual, the Scarecrow found himself strung up like his namesake outside the Asylum's gates--apparently there had been a more urgent situation for the Bat to deal with than delivering him safely to the front door.

That first night had been stressful for a multitude of reasons, not in the least of which was the situation of his lair: Selina had gotten her fake papers, but had experienced little luck in finding herself a new home, extending her stay for an unknowable period. The lanky psychologist had already resigned himself to returning to a damaged house, knowing those cats would certainly run free now that he was no longer around to keep them in line. At least there was some small comfort to be taken that he hadn't yet replaced his test subject in the basement (he'd have surely returned to a rotting corpse in his laboratory with the unfortunate man or woman dead from thirst); those were a pain to clean up.

"Scarecrow, get up," the guard demanded, rapping on the glass harshly. "Breakfast after showers."

"I know the schedule," the scrawny brunette grumbled, rising from his cot and rubbing at his eyes. "I'd wager I know the details far too well."

"Whatever straw-head. Showers in five."

Fifteen minutes later, wet-haired and grouchy, the Rogues Gallery were marched into the mess hall with the rest of the mentally ill patients for their first meal of the day. It was the standard mushy fare of Arkham Asylum, the eggs watery and the toast stale. It was all eaten with only minor complaints from the Riddler—nothing new there though even his minor complaints were overdramatic, loud and generally disruptive to the table.

"I mean, it's only identifiable because of the menu! If I didn't know these were eggs, I'd say they were some sort of brain material or unnatural slime creature."

"Eddie, you whine about the food every freaking morning," Two-Face grumbled, his undamaged eye closed in a dosing sort of way. "Can't you just lay off for once? You know funding always goes down after an escape, so since Tetch is out we're all gonna have crappy food for a few weeks."

"But the food is always evolving into some new form of horribleness!" the scruffy intellectual argued. "It's only ever good whenever Wayne makes a donation and he hasn't done that for almost six months!"

"Then he's about due, Edward," Jonathan interrupted, tone clipped and irate. "Now shut up and just eat it. Or not--I don't care."

The Riddler stuck his tongue out at the psychologist and lapsed into sulky silence. Harvey gave Jonathan a thankful nod before burying his head in his arms to rest some more. (He had been up for almost half the night arguing with his other personality and needed some time to recover mentally from the experience.)

The cafeteria door swung open, screeching on its creaky hinges and startling some of the more noise-sensitive patients in the room. (Honestly, Jonathan knew Arkham was struggling financially, but they could at least spare some of their limited funds to remove things that might trigger the occupants. No wonder the turnaround for this asylum was so low.) Marching through the doors came a pair of guards, escorting a familiar dark-haired woman between them in cuffs.

"Oh look, the runaway kitty's come back home," Joker commented lightly from where he leaned on Harley's shoulder. 

"Careful when you take off the bracelets, boys," Selina was commenting as an orderly unchained her. "I might scratch your pretty faces."

"Whatever ms Kyle," one of the burly men scoffed. "I saw your bruises; you won't be fighting anybody for a few more days. Not after how the bat handled you."

Catwoman hissed at him lightly when the cuffs slipped off her wrists and she rubbed at where they had dug into her skin. She said nothing else as she got her food and strode over to the Rogue's table. She plopped down across from Jonathan, Edward directly to her right and bit into her toast.

"How lovely to see you again, miss Kyle," the Riddler greeted her smoothly. "Tell me you didn't blow your new false identity already."

"Relax Eddie," the svelte thief sighed. "As far as anyone knows, miss Georgina Sparks was called away on a business trip. The Bat caught me while out on a diamond heist before I made it into my new apartment's neighborhood."

"So I am to assume my lair is cat-free then?" Jonathan interjected, piling the last of the eggs onto his toast and taking a small bite.

"Yep, though I had to steal one of your sweaters to make Milo willing to leave, stubborn tomcat."

"Hold up." Hazel and almost-black eyes both locked onto Edward, who had even put up his hands to emphasize his statement. "You had Selina over at your lair, Jon? You never let anyone stay over!"

"You and Jervis both have stayed over before," the lanky doctor reminded him. "In any case, I owed miss Kyle a favor and she decided to cash in with using the spare room for a brief while. It wasn't anything personal."

 The green-eyed puzzler didn't look convinced, but the combination of the pair's gaze was enough to shut him up. Jonathan returned to his breakfast without another word, ignoring the cheeky smile sent his way from across the table.

Somehow, he got the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time someone was going to bring up his temporary roommate.

* * *

Recreation time in the main room was probably the best part of Arkham's daily schedule: two hours with which one could do whatever they pleased (so long as no one was being physically or psychologically attacked). Even better was that Gotham's Rogues were considered too dangerous to fraternize with the less criminally minded and they had a separate room from all the other patients, meaning it was far less crowded than it could have been.

Rec time may have been the best time of day, but it was also the one time of day that all of the Rogues were left to their own devices with minimal interference. Which, knowing the various personalities of those individuals, could be quite infuriating at the best of times.

"Sooooo..." Jonathan instinctively tensed at the sound of the Joker's voice by his shoulder, grip on his book tightening to the point of pain. He was regretting his choice to sit at a table clearly out in the open. "You and the pretty kitty been getting acquainted, huh?"

"You know perfectly well that I was merely fulfilling a favor owed," the slim brunette bit out. "I said as much this morning and there is nothing more to it."

"So you didn't take the time to admire the lovely miss Kyle at all?" the clown pressed teasingly. "Not even a little bit?"

"Don't you have something better to do?" Jonathan snapped irritably. "I'm trying to read!"

"C'mon Jonny boy--we both know you've read that book enough times to quote it." There was an edge to Joker's voice, one that held a subtle warning: he was losing his patience. A bored Joker was chatty, loud and persistently annoying, but when he got impatient it was borderline dangerous: he could make your stay in Arkham a nightmare with nobody else the wiser. The question of how he accomplished such thoroughly personalized tortue was currently--and would likely always be--left unanswered and unknown.

"I don't see what is so fascinating about the fact she stayed over in my lair for a few weeks," the psychologist stated in as calm a voice as he could muster, closing the book and resting it on his lap. "Most days we said nothing to each other and when we did, it was mostly greetings and updates. She spent her entire stay looking for a new apartment and taking care of that clan of hers."

"Now Jonny, let's not be coy," Joker sing-songed. "We both know that you are by far the most lacking when it comes to, ahem, 'interest' with the fine-looking ladies of this city."

Jonathan involuntarily tensed, jaw tightening and hands curling into fists.

"Call me curious, but I'd imagine this is the closest you've ever come to having a woman over. Was it difficult to get used to? Knowing there was a beautiful woman upstairs who was playing nice? Or are you just as unfeeling as you pretend to be about such silly little emotions?"

"Mmhm," a familiar voice purred from behind the two men. "I never knew you had an ear for gossip, J-man."

The Scarecrow took the opportunity to get up and away from his antagonist as the clown turned with a quirked eyebrow towards a smirking Selina.

"Now now," Joker tutted lightly. "You remember what we do to inquisitive kitties like yourself, don't you?" His almost-cheerful tone drained from his voice after each word until it dropped into a deep, dark snarl. "They suffer from happy. Little. Accidents."

"But you have to catch a cat first," the thief responded almost teasingly. "Not to mention I doubt your lady love would approve such a steep price for overhearing things while we're all in here suffering the consequences together."

That made Joker laugh, just once. It was odd, but it was far easier to understand what the clown communicated with his laughter than any words he could have said: the one sound summed up how truly  _un_ amused he was about the way things had turned out and wanted that this wasn't over--not by a long shot. With a shrug, the clown strode away, likely to whine to Harley and get her sympathy and showers of affection. Selina flashed a smug grin before taking the seat that Jonathan had recently been occupying.

"He's so easy to work up," she commented lightly. "I think he's jealous that I had some 'fun' with the Bat the other night."

She did not get an answer to her quip: the tall brunette just stared at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What is it you want with me, miss Kyle?" he asked bluntly, making the woman blink in surprise.

"What do you mean, Crane?"

"Nobody stands up to Joker without an incentive of some kind. Now I'll ask you again: what do you want?"

That made Selina tilt her head. Her lips pursed a little as she considered Jonathan's words. At length, she gave a helpless shrug.

"I'm not very good with casual relationship cues, but aren't friends supposed to help one another out? Have each other's backs or whatever?"

"Friends?"

The former professor's tone was ice and he looked downright  _furious_ , looming over her, hands clenched into fists.The woman before him shifted in her seat, leaning in such a way she could easlily escape should he turn violent.

"You use that word far too freely, ms Kyle," Jonathan spat. "Simply spending some time together without conflict is not nearly enough to create any ideas of 'friendship' that you might be entertaining! We are criminals, on case you've forgotten! We don't have _friends_ ; only compatriots and occasional allies. So whatever you think there is between is, quash that notion before it is inevitably shattered."

With a final glare, the Scarecrow turned on his heel and stalked away. He picked a solitary corner of the room and sat down, opening his book again but the aura of his anger remained, making Arnold Wesker who was sitting nearby get up and give him some more room.

Jonathan refused to look back at Selina to gauge her reaction; why should he care? He didn't--it was as simple as that. She was being presumptuous in assuming they had any kind of closer relationship than a cordial acquaintance. That was all they could have, especially considering they were both emotional manipulators. Who was to say that it wasn't all a grand plot or that it would become as such? It was one of the constants of their lifestyle they would eventually betray one another. Why make that painful? He had seen firsthand what Harley went through every time her "Puddin" had used her and had no desire to suffer or inflict such damage (he didn't hate ms Kyle after all--not yet anyway).

 _Put it from your mind,_ he told himself fiercely.  _I am not allowing this to escalate any further than it has._

He _couldn't_ let it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I've opened up comissions on my tumblr! Pricing details can be found here! (https://hybridequalist.tumblr.com/post/165350354903/commissions-open) Let me know if you're interested!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily based upon and inspired by the interpretations of the Rogues done by Alomoria on DeviantArt and her tumblr ask blog: http://askarkham.tumblr.com/.
> 
> If you would like to request something, ask a question or follow updates of this story on tumblr, the link to my fan-stuff blog is here: https://intelligentfun.tumblr.com/


End file.
